Jordan Benson

Winter Woes


Winter is cold

It's hoar-frost so white

And numb are my toes

In the still of the night.


Languid and listless

Does my yellow moon rise,

Prying through windows

Embroidered with ice.


The maple is barren

Her charges long gone

And dull are my mornings

Without a bird's song.


Sluggish my footsteps

And exceedingly cool,

Are my prospects of wakening

The dead at the school.


Dear Father of mercies

Forgive my sad tune.

Could you miss out a season

And start with next June?


idris rees hughes.